


Nothing Quite Like This

by Kitsunespooky



Category: My Friend Pedro
Genre: Drugs, Pain, References to Drugs, Self-Harm, also this is pregame, enjoy my bullshit written in 30 minutes, i guess, i mean what ever i guess, rose is from the song Requiem for Rose in the mfp soundtrack, this got drugs and dysfunctional family yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 22:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20265883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsunespooky/pseuds/Kitsunespooky
Summary: My headcanon of what've might have happened pregame. Please read tags for stuff 👀👌





	Nothing Quite Like This

Nothing hurt more than now. 

It's been the same pain and putrid dissatisfaction for years and yet I've never felt any worse than this. With the mask limp in my hands and the determination in my heart, I've found it hard not to reminisce on my far from fond past.

For as long as I can recall, she's been treating me like I'm below her, like I'm just some sheep to order around and follow her. She used me to intimidate and conquer what was around her. That's when the pain began. In school she was always the popular cool girl while I was the freak that never spoke. She used this against me as well. She may have been older by a year or few, but she never could contain me if I so wished for it. She used me to win fights and to gain superiority. Never saved any for myself. Foolish.

I imagined that she lay below me, bloodied and broken, in my mind. I craved that freedom of free will and choice now as I ran the plan through my mind. Her ear piece snapped and her purple hair messied. Blood pooling under my shoes. The tense silence in the air that could be cut with a warm knife. It tantalized my very wants and needs as I wanted, no, needed that freedom in my life. 

Then he came along. I continued to run my mind through my memories. The red hair and green eyes clouded with cowardice and false intimidation as he clutched his red shirt. Whether he was snatched off of the streets or from a product of a drunken one stand is beyond my knowledge, but I know that from then on he was to be in our family.

"Family." I murmured. The yellow fruit at my side gave a facsimile of a nod the best a fruit could manage. 

I've never had a family as far as I was concerned. The youngest with red hair never fit in with us; too timid and frightful to be of any use in today's society other than being some runt to be everyone's punching bag. Though he still somehow dragged in money for us three. We always saved his scrawny behind, my sister and I, and he never once thanked us for it only to instead run off and go scam yet another helpless old man of his money. To be used and thrown away as a tissue left a dull ache in my chest that never quite left no matter the substance I abused.

Though that still didn't make him one of us per se. None of us fit into this misshapen mold we dare called a family. Mom went out for cigarettes and never came back, or so I'm told. Though I believe it has something to do with an incident with the mob. Dad was never around. Ophelia was too busy with her posse of followers and internet blogs to care about us. And Denny was too far from being our family, and was too greedy for money to care for even himself, much less the rest of us. 

All I had left in life was my friends.

First was Rose. A familiar name that had long since faded with the tragedy of her death. She helped ground myself and tought me the beauties in life; told me stories from a far and was easily the first person to bring a grin to my features. Though the worst things happen to the best of people. She died far too young. 

Then came Pedro. He's been with me to be my voice of reason and guidance in this wretch of an Earth. He too died young, but he came back to me as the enthusiastic berry that sat at my side now. I'm not sure but I think it has something to do with the incident. Nothing has been the same since I suffered head trauma all those years ago. That or the many drugs I use to forget my sorrows. Sadly Rose hasn't come back, and now I'm afraid she never will. 

But this will be for her. For Pedro. And most importantly myself. 

The mask that lay limp in my hands and the family that lay dead in my mind was so close. Maybe it'll all be easier if I forget who I was once upon a time. 

And with the click of the mask strapping to my face and the soft hum of Pedro, I grabbed the frying pan beside me and slammed it down on my head as hard as physically possible. 

\---------------------------

"Rise and shine sleepyhead."

A familiar yet unknown voice spoke as I peeled my eyes open. The bright incandescent lights above me burned my eyes momentarily before the vague, warm yellow in front of me took shape. My head throbbed. I didn't know where I was, as crates and cookware lay all around me. It was filthy to say the least. 

You looked at the floating banana in front of you. Nothing felt right about this, but as he asked if you were okay and to tell him how many fingers he was holding up, despite the lack of fingers, he introduced himself. 

"I'm Pedro! Your friend."


End file.
